


The One with Baby Witchers in a Maze

by apothekemilie



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Baby Witchers, Gen, Witchers in training, i figure they dont have corn on the continent so i cant call it a corn maze ok, just a sweet lil fall time maze okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apothekemilie/pseuds/apothekemilie
Summary: I just wanted to write something soft and sweet about something good that might happen while the boys all trained at Kaer Morhen. Don't @me with your "TRAINING WAS GRUELING AND THE BOYS WERE MISERABLE" its spooky season and the world is ending, and we don't need that kind of negativity in our lives rn so just enjoy some baby witchers in a maze getting some treats.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #008





	The One with Baby Witchers in a Maze

**Author's Note:**

> forgive me for my horrible writing. i did this in like 2 hours lmao

It was a Wolf School tradition for as long as any of the instructors would say. Always a few weeks before the first frosts of winter set in, well before any of the wolves on The Path skulked home to hunker down for a few months.

The leaves on the trees, the ones that changed anyway, were always bright orange, ready to plummet with a stiff breeze.

The leader of the wolves would make the announcement:  
Boys, it’s time for the maze.

There were several courses, cut from fields across the valleys of the mountain range, meant to accommodate boys of different ages, from the ones who were still learning to walk all the way to those who would be heading out on their own for the first time come the thaws of spring. Each boy would enter from his own nook into the path cut from tall standing grasses and find his way to the center.

The idea was to sharpen one’s senses and directional skills where terrain can be confusing. Depending on where they were in training, there would be different challenges, but all had the same reward upon completion: sweet breads, baked fruits, and warm spiced wine and juices.

While witchering wasn’t easy, and neither was the training, this was a singular event in the year that promised a bit more fun with a universally loved prize. It also helped to add a bit to the growing boys’ weight before the fasts of winter. With the trials as fatal they were, the school didn’t feel the need to sacrifice even more of their ever-dwindling numbers to winter’s cold.

It had only been a few weeks since Geralt had recovered enough from his additional trials to return to his shared dorm with Eskel. The latter was excelling in everything the trainers had thrown his way and was feeling almost overly confident in his abilities. His signs in particular, he felt, were his greatest asset, and a very welcome addition to his abilities. It would be great for their maze this time, since they finally got to a place where their maze would test them using signs.

Geralt, by contrast, was still struggling to adapt to his changes. Whatever it was they did to him made it all the harder to fall asleep or even get into a proper meditation. Everything was just...so...much. At the start, his skin burned and froze and itched all within the same moments. Anything that moved, Geralt could hear. His eyes would dart around, trying to find a point of focus, but anything could catch his attention now. He could smell if one of the infants kept in the nurseries had made a mess of their nappy, even if he was across the keep in the courtyard, practicing his swordsmanship with Vesemir. Everything was so all-encompassing that he could never find peace of mind or the ability to concentrate.

On more than one occasion he was tempted to ask Eskel to just axii him to sleep, but bit his tongue, eyeing the brown haired boy with jealousy as he fingered the strands of his now stark white hair.

Geralt thought he must look so old now, and only distantly mourned the fact that he never really got to feel young.

In the dark of night, the evening before the trial, Geralt lies awake, his fingers scratching against the wool of his blankets. Eskel breaks the near silence.

“Hey.”

Of course he couldn’t sleep either. Just because Geralt had super-duper senses now didn’t mean that Eskel couldn’t also be kept awake by Geralt’s neurotic ministrations. He chides himself internally and stills.

“Sorry.”

“What for? The scratching?” Eskel was always surprisingly adept at reading him. “Pff, no worries.” He continues in a hush tone. “Wanted to talk about tomorrow.”

“What about it?”

“Wanna team up? Bet we could get through much faster with my signs and your senses.”

Witchers were supposed to be solitary creatures out on The Path, but they weren’t forbidden from collaboration. Geralt considers the offer.

“We’d have to find each other first. No way they’d let us start together.”

“Duh. Finding each other’ll be a piece of cake. You’ve got your new extra-extra sensitive everything. You should find me no problem. Heh, that is if I don’t find you first.”

Geralt scoffs. “I’ll find you. Should we make a code or something?”

“Hm… How about this? I’ll bleat like a goat; you follow the sound to me.”

“You can make goat sounds?”

“Yeah it’s easy. Listen.” Eskel bleats, twice as loud as it was convincing, and it was a pretty damn convincing bleat. Geralt is momentarily stunned to silence.

“Shit. Uh, yeah, sure. We’ll find each other, go from there.”

“I’m gonna stuff my face with that good, good pumpkin bread, just you wait.”

“Oh I know you will,” Geralt whispers. Not a moment later, they silence themselves when they hear what is most likely a groggy instructor shuffling down the hall to find the source of the goat noise.

* * *

As it turns out, finding each other in the maze was about as easy as the pair expected. Just a few minutes into the exercise, Eskel started making his ridiculous sounds, and Geralt slowly but surely found his way to his brother. He didn’t say it outloud, but it also didn’t hurt that Eskel ate way more onion soup at dinner than he normally might have, and the scent was an easy enough one to pick out and follow.

The theme for their course was more or less related to sign usage, and they would need to demonstrate their abilities in order to get through as quickly as possible.

A small, controlled burn with igni opened up a new path here, using yrden on the wraith-like scarecrow illuminated a trail on the ground showing a quicker route. A blast of aard clears away a stray haystack.

Equipping a shield with quen allowed for faster movement through the brambles, all while circling their way closer to the center.

It was practically kid stuff for the pair.

The two were rounding a corner through the maze when they heard a shout.

“H-hey! A little help over here!?” Just in front of them was a smaller boy, one not nearly old enough to be on this course, equipped with one of the wooden practice swords. Between him and Eskel and Geralt was a nekker.

Those little shits (monsters, not little kids) weren’t supposed to be anywhere near the courses. Even just a single one could be quick and mean enough to take down a boy, if not several at once.

“What’s the kid doing here?” Eskel asks, not even looking to Geralt as the pair moves to circle the monster.

Geralt, for his part, just shrugs. “Gotta kill the nekker though.” Neither of them carried weapons, as was the order of the instructors. “Your signs are better though, so I’ll stun it with axii, you take it down with igni. Sound good?”

“Sure thing.”

The kid, for his part, figured now might be the time to get brave and start swinging at the nekker.

“Yeah, yeah, you doofs do what you gotta. I’ll just keep him distracted here!” For all he had in volume, bravery didn’t come through loudly in his tone.

“Don’t worry, we got this.” Eskel assured him. At his nod, Geralt cast axii. Once the nekker was stumbling on its feet, the kid quickly (and honestly kind of skillfully) rolled out of the way. “Burn it, burn it, burn it, burn it!” He yelled as he went to hide behind Eskel.

Poor little shit couldn’t have been older than maybe 8. His eyes were still a deep, warm brown that matched the curly hair on his head. He trembled as he clung uselessly to the back of Eskel’s shirt while the older boy hit the monster with a solid stream of fire for several seconds before breaking off, panting.

It writhed and hopped in place while it burned. All the while, Geralt watched with narrowed eyes. The moment it stopped bouncing and looked ready to attack again, he hit it with an igni of his own. While less dazzling and severe, it seemed to do the trick of knocking the thing over, finally burnt to a crisp.

“Well that wasn’t expected.” Geralt stated simply.

“No shit!” yelled the kid. “I didn’t know they made you guys face monsters in your maze!”

“They don’t,” Eskel replied, prying the kid’s hands from his shirt before going to inspect the nekker’s corpse. “I’ve never heard of monsters being a part of this training before. It must’ve snuck its way in.”  
From his boot he pulled a dagger and cleanly sliced its head, as well as carved out the heart.

“Might as well take a trophy and some alchemy ingredients, yeah? If I remember right, I can use this to make a healing potion.”

Geralt scoffed. “Nerd.” He turned to the kid. “As for you, what were you doing on our course, shrimp? Who are you?”

For his part, the little boy openly sneered at the pair of them. “I’m Lambert. I was gonna pass this course and show the teachers that I don’t need to do all the baby shit they have me doing right now. If I can prove I’m tougher than the others, I figure they’ll let me out on the path sooner, and I can go home to my ma.”

Geralt and Eskel shared a look that was somehow pitying, unimpressed, and exasperated all at once.

“Uh...Yeah. Maybe they’ll let you do that.” Eskel answered, eyeing the scratches on the boy. He couldn’t have used quen to get through any brambles, which is probably how he got so scuffed up. After all, if the nekker had touched him at all, they would have been hauling a body to their teachers next.

“How about we just focus on getting to the center?”

It was in this way that the pair of witchers in training became a trio and resumed their trek to the center of the maze, albeit at a slower pace.

* * *

What awaited them there was a softly snoozing Vesemir with a very nearly empty bowl of treats perched in his lap.

Lambert’s scoff of indignation was enough to rouse the old witcher who looked over to them.

“Well, well, look at you all. First ones to make it!”

Lambert gestured to the empty bowl, which should have had their treats.

“Hardly, you old coot! You slept through the other trainees coming and going! And now there’s nothing left for us. That does it! You owe me. In lieu of any treats, I think you should just let me go home to Ma. I already beat this course, which was clearly meant for older kids. That means I’m better than the other men and ready to go out on my own!”

Old Vesemir could only laugh at the child’s attitude. He looked back to Eskel and Geralt who were standing further away seeming rather disappointed to have missed out on the annual delight. He also noted the nekker head trophy that Eskel had dragged along. Knowing the three separately, it wasn’t terribly hard to deduce at least part of what had transpired in the maze.

With a huff, Vesemir stood and dusted his breeches.

“Well, well…” Vesemir closed his eyes and listened to the maze surrounding them. It sounded like everyone else had made it out alive. “Seems like you all have a story to tell. How about in exchange for your testimony, I see about finding some extra desserts hidden away in the kitchen?"

If they’d tried to contain their excitement, Geralt and Eskel failed poorly.

On their way back, Lambert embellished the story with his own twists and heroics, which Vesemir silently allowed, though not without smiling back to the older trainees with a look that said he’d get the real story later on. Only after they’d had their fill of pumpkin bread, baked apples, and spiced wine so warm and sweet that it would shame the duchy of Toussaint.


End file.
